


Spotlights On Us

by pyrrhickong



Category: Persona 4
Genre: F/M, Fluff and Angst, Vignette
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-20
Updated: 2015-08-20
Packaged: 2018-04-16 07:53:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,576
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4617357
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pyrrhickong/pseuds/pyrrhickong
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Collection of short vignettes. Rise Kujikawa and Kanji Tatsumi at various ages. What they found. What mistakes they made. How they made each other stronger.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Spotlights On Us

Rise Kujikawa, Age 7

"You're pretty just the way you are, Rise-chan".

No matter how many times her mommy said it, Rise just couldn't swallow those words. She did everything the pretty girls did in her class - she played with dolls, she called boys gross, she talked about all the cute Pokemon even if she liked some of the cool ones - but she was never a pretty girl. She grabbed her stomach and felt a roll of her flesh squirm around in her tiny hands. She shuffled it around for a few minutes before throwing her hands to the side, slamming her fist into her bed pillow.

"I-I'm not… I'm not pretty, mommy. Not in the real way…"

She'd tried everything to try to get better, but it didn't work. Of course Rise got the highest grade on the test, anyone with an 'A' on it got a topsicle! Of course she was interested in baking, she probably ate half of the brownies before she came to school, which is why there were so few. In actuality, she'd burnt most of them, but spent a lot of time drawing little butterflies with frosting. They were a little powdery still, and kind of gloppy in the middle, but she was proud of them. And then none of the other kids wanted to have them.

That's probably why she grew so quiet. She was always very excitable early on in school, and still had little bursts of energy when solving a hard math question or showing the teacher that she knew a few words of English. But she ate lunch by herself now, partially out of choice, and partially because she knew none of the other kids would want to hang out with her. Usually, she'd just sneak into the music room during lunch and hoped that no one would notice. Ms. Tachibana wasn't that good of a singer - Rise would later realize that's probably why she taught grade school music classes - but when she sang, Rise saw a look in her eyes that was never seen in class. A kind of far-off, glazed expression with a light smile, words pouring out of her mouth, her body swaying in a way that seemed to blend with the music. 

Rise would then look down at her own body and sigh. Maybe when she got bigger… and smaller in other ways…

\---

Kanji Tatsumi, Age 7

There was a topsicle in his mouth when he felt a tug on his fishing line. Kanji made a muffled sound, pointing at the line. “Hold on tight, son!” his dad called, Kanji frantically trying to get a good grip on the line. In truth, the whole afternoon was pretty boring. Just a lot of sitting and not really doing anything. But his papa was a real man, and he would be too, so he sat there with the smelly bait and only took from the cooler they brought when he started feeling that the sun was really hot. 

He pulled as hard as he could, but the fish underwater pulled back with a force that nearly ripped the line from Kanji’s hands. The young boy shouted, his topsicle falling from his mouth (which was okay, lime wasn’t his favorite flavor anyway) and onto the dock. Kanji cranked the reel as quickly as he could, but his wrist was hurt, the line growing taught and unable to be pulled.. Numerous words that he’d heard from the other side of the street at Konishi Liquors (much to his mom’s chagrin and leading to several conversations with Mr. Konishi) flashed in his mind, before a strained “DARN IT!” escaped his mouth.

But soon, he felt a hand cover his own. Without even looking up, Kanji smiled. He dug his feet into the dock as his father wrapped one arm around his waist, giving him the strength he needed. The boy tugged as hard as his muscles could allow, determined to catch whatever he ended up having on the line. He slowly gained ground, he and his father stepping back, pulling the fish closer to the surface, the reflection of its scales beginning to glisten. Kanji grinned ear to ear, imagining the delicious meal his mother could prepare, how his father would call him the man who put food on their table. Dreams of becoming a professional fisherman, catching a giant squid, becoming world famous as an angler, all of these flashed in his mind in a brief moment of confidence and hope. He had this. This was his moment.

Kanji wondered where the ground went about a second later as he slipped backwards. His discarded topsicle went flying out from underneath his foot, and with it, the fishing pole from his hands. He and his father fell back onto the dock with a resounding thud, watching as Kanji’s pole was dragged into the waters of the Samegawa. Tears began to well up in the hopeful fisherman’s eyes; he’d even lost the pole and let his papa down. But from behind him came not scolding, but laughter. A comforting hand found itself on Kanji’s sniffling head, rustling his hair.

“What’s the matter, kid? Haven’t seen you this blue since they changed seasons of Featherman”. Kanji’s tiny body stiffened and shook for a moment, looking down at the waters below.

“T-the fish g-got away. A-and I was gonna get it a-and you’d be proud a-and so would mama and…” Kanji’s stuttering was interrupted by a well-timed noogie. “P-papa! Quit it!” Kanji protested, finally starting to laugh and pushing back on his father’s arm.

“There’s my boy!” his father exclaimed, picking Kanji up in one arm, much to the child’s delight. He’d always been a bit shorter than the other boys, so each time he was lifted amounted to nothing less than absolute joy. “You gave it your all! A man’s got nothing to cry about as long as he puts everything he has into it! Remember that!”

Kanji’s eyes drifted to look at the sky, not confident that he could achieve anything, but confident that he could achieve what he really wanted just by trying.

—

Rise Kujikawa, Age 9

Rise clung to a curtain at the side of the stage. Her tutu was pinching her as a tiny pigtail poked out, looking at an audience of what was assuredly zillions. Her teacher had assured her that a dance recital wasn’t something to be nervous about. Dance was a wonderful thing that you should share with people, because it shows your love for music. ‘Why am I getting private lessons, then?’ Rise always thought to herself. The only thing that she had confidence in was the fool she was about to make of herself.

When her name was announced, Rise refused to let her grip on the curtain lessen. No matter how many encouraging statements were made by the audience, her fingers would not dare let go of her red sanctuary. No matter how many pep talks she could’ve given herself, there was only her mom and grandmother out there to encourage her. Everyone else just wanted to watch her dance for the sake of watching her fall on her rear and laugh, she was certain of that. No matter how many times her name was called, she wouldn’t dare move her feet.

Which is why it was so fortunate for a stagehand to begin pulling the drape she was clinging onto shut. Her small legs flailed along with the curtain, since her fingers refused to relinquish their grip. The curtain lead her to the much-dreaded center stage before yanking out of her grasp. Not knowing the right words to curse the curtain, Rise stared dumbfounded at the large crowd. Exposed, seeing every inch of her leotard and tutu-clad body, all looking expectantly…

The next thing Rise could remember was the applause. It was polite - she evidently didn’t do exceptionally, but she certainly executed her routine - but it was resounding. She remembered not the dance she did, but the feeling of the music moving through her body. She was possessed by something electric, a force that moved her beyond her mind and grabbed her spirit. There was a big smile plastered on her face that came from her mother’s disposable camera, purchased just for this event.

It was after she left the stage, ran into the bathroom, and vomited from her nerves piling on top of on another that Rise resolved herself to wanting more of this. Perhaps just not all at once.

—

Kanji Tatsumi, Age 10

It was hardly the first time he’d been late to the lunch tables. Scrawny little Kan-chan - and it most definitely was chan, not kun - just had to embarrass himself again, didn’t he? His quiet suggestion that ‘house’ or ‘play dinner party’ could be accepted as the freetime game the class would play. His teachers had tried to keep it anonymous, of course, but the way he blushed as no one voted for the option he’d chosen aside from a few girls made it quite obvious. Get a reassuring pat on the back, maybe save those kinds of activities for home, there’s nothing wrong with them, it’s just better if we did it privately. The same kind of process every year, every time he’d decide to be brave and be the man he wanted to be, only to realize that wasn’t being a man at all.

He spent the lunch period against a fence, opening up his bento. Today’s food animal was a smiling panda. It wasn’t that big of a surprise - he made the ears using seaweed to get the color right and then a peach to make the smile - but his mom had made a little bamboo forest of thin biscotti cookies for it to live in, which was always nice.

“It’s really cute” a voice called from behind him. He looked to his left and saw a girl about his age. Her red hair was tied in a ponytail, a cup of instant noodles between her legs. He hadn’t even noticed her sitting there before, his eyes trained on his bento.

“Th-thanks” he stuttered out before a hand reached over and plucked off his panda’s ear. “H-hey! That’s my lunch!” Kanji reached futilely for his rice-covered treat before being handed something in return. Plopped on top of the cookie bamboo array was a little yellow blob filled with what looked like carrots and sprouts and such.

“Now it’s our lunch. Sorry, just didn’t think you’d give it up unless I showed you the trade first!” The girl smiled right at him, making Kanji blush and look away. Girls were weird, always wanting to play and make you feel embarrassed. This one didn’t seem much different - probably spit in the ganmodoki or something to make him more embarrassed - but just kind of happily plopped her stolen food onto her tongue and swallowed.

“Your mom’s a really good cook” she complimented. Kanji sputtered out thanks in response before picking up the ganmodoki with his chopsticks. Might as well get it over with, he thought to himself, placing the tofu-based creation in his mouth. What he managed to ‘get over’ was that it was absolutely delicious. Far superior to his now paltry-seeming offering of rice with a few spices and veggies.

“This is really good!” Kanji exclaimed. He quickly bit into the rest of the fried tofu, decimating it and being sure that he’d order more as soon as he knew where to get it. There was a tofu store just across the street, there would probably be his best bet for it. Nice to know not everyone was just waiting for that big store that bought out the old softball fields to come in. It probably wouldn’t have as good ganmodoki as this, at least.

The two children ate in silence for a while, just giving each other shy, passing glances. Eventually, the girl spoke up. “So I’m probably weird, right? Girl who came up and ate your food for no reason?” Kanji couldn’t help but nod before blushing, causing a frantic shaking of his head and many apologies for being rude. The girl giggled and waved the comment off. “It’s okay, really. I was just gonna eat alone again and then you came over all down in the dumps. I just… thought it’d be good to see you smile. ‘Cause if you’re alone here like me, we sometimes need to be dorks to get a grin in.”

That made sense to Kanji. He wasn’t that great at math - or any subject, for that matter - but he got the basic idea that two negatives made a positive… if it involved, like, magnets or something. He understood that magnets were cool, basically, which wasn’t math at all but his brain was getting sidetracked and the point was that two of the same usually made something happen, SOME kind of force. He decided to break the confusion with the process of manning up and trying to talk.

“That’s… really nice of you. Thanks. This… actually does make my day a little better…” Kanji’s thanks were interrupted by the girl’s finger to his lips. She gave him a soft smile.

“Don’t say thanks yet. This… is my last day here. I just really wanted someone to talk to and, well, you gotta do whatever it takes to get your dreams, right?”

Whatever it takes… yeah. That sounded right.

So the two kids talked. Talked about food, talked about dumb things their parents did, talked about whatever Pokemon or doll or action figure they pleased. With every passing sentence, Kanji grew more lively, a smile forming on the small boy’s face. They talked about dancing and singing, which Kanji admitted to being terrible at and the girl admitted to being terrible at getting herself to do it in front of other people. They talked about sewing, which Kanji’s companion decided was, ‘weird for a boy to do, but it’s a good thing to make you happy’. They talked about how weird it was for their talents to be seen by others, but how happy it made them just in their rooms at home. They talked about the other kids, some of the name-calling, and how they’d laugh it off. Kanji talked about his mom, prompting the girl to talk about hers, which eventually devolved into an argument of whether the girl’s grandmother could beat Kanji’s father in a fight (which Kanji, of course, took incredibly seriously). But most importantly, they talked. It wasn’t a special conversation, they didn’t have words of wisdom for each other or some kind of life-affirming morals to share, but both of them felt free to talk and simply enjoy each others’ company. For this one lunch period, they were open and hopeful.

As the bell rang and the teacher beckoned them in, Kanji reached into his pocket. The girl looked confused as he helped her up and then set a wrapper in her hand. Contained within was a small candy ring. The girl scoffed, “What, is this a proposal? I’m leaving tomorrow y’know.” Kanji just looked at the ground for several seconds. Just as she was about to turn away, he spoke.

“We have… a lot of things to do. Growin’ up and stuff. So I’m giving you my favorite flavor, because you’re my favorite friend right now.” Kanji paused, thinking of how to continue his faux-poetry. The girl blushed a bit, unsure if this was flirting, a sincere proposal, or if she’d just be knocked down again for accepting food, just like she had in previous years. But then Kanji spoke up again.

“So… this ring is a promise. That we’re both gonna try hard and be happy. And if we see each other again, we’ll help each other, no matter what. It’s like… our secret promise. That no matter what people say, we’ll do things for us. And then when we meet up again, because I’m not going to go anywhere, we’ll be able to eat lunch again together.”

The girl just smiled. She reached into her bag and pulled out a set of stickers. Kanji looked on curiously as she slapped a single sticker on the inside his lunchbox. It appeared to be an unused Valentine’s Day sticker, the name to some crush hastily having been scribbled out by permanent marker. Kanji couldn’t guess how long it’d been in there - since Valentine’s Day, sure, but since which one, as the sticker already looked old and worn. The girl just smiled at him as she turned to enter her classroom. Before going into the door, she removed the candy ring from its wrapper and placed it on her finger.

“Promise.”

—

Rise Kujikawa, Age 12

“Rise-chan, please!” But it was of little use. Once Rise was determined to do something, she would do it. She placed her dance bag over her shoulder and walked out the door, a defiant kick accentuating her exit. She gripped her leg shortly after. Bad idea, Rise-chan. Bad idea.

The doctor said that she needed to stay off of it for a while. It was a simple tear, but further strain on the muscle could result in permanent damage. For her own sake, she should stay off of it for a while. There would be other opportunities, dancing could still be a hobby for her.

It’d seemed like a dream. A few months ago, she’d heard that her profile was entered into an idol search contest. She’d always talked at family gatherings about her singing and dancing, about how she’d worked out to get rid of the extra weight she’d gathered from when she was younger, how she was trying, more and more, to talk to people, even if it didn’t result in much more than rejection. Eventually, one of her relatives snuck her resume in and surprised her with a letter of acceptance through the initial screening process.

The next few months were taken as an arduous audition process. Routines harder than Rise had ever seen before were taught with little chance for clarification, various songs were spread out in numerous keys and testing multiple harmonies, some basic questions to determine personality and acting talent came in almost every day for her to answer. But this wouldn’t deter Rise. This wasn’t something that would take her down. Someone had seen something in her, and no matter what, she was going to chase and fulfill it. It was time to put the shy little girl away and start to revel in her talents.

Rise continued to the audition. She’d work through her injury. She wasn’t dumb enough to just dance right on it - she’d keep off of it as much as she could, explain that she couldn’t be on it. But she wasn’t about to quit. Rise Kujikawa would never quit again. She would make sure a smile would be put on todays’ judges panel’s faces. Even if this wasn’t her chance, she would work toward it and try again. This was her moment to break out. This was the time to show the world what shy little Rise Kujikawa was working toward for all this time.

—

Kanji Tatsumi, Age 14

He’d been thrown into the room more roughly than the last few times. Apparently, good will and patience ran out on bad kids who didn’t learn their lesson. Kanji just wished they’d had the damn decency to give him some first aid. Ah well, at least he could call it a battle scar. No one would have to know that it’d come after the fight was done, and he embarrassingly tripped and scratched his forehead on one of the knitting needles in his pocket. Plus he was able to stitch it up a bit before the cops showed up - not that he could move all that well with a damn piercing headache from his lethal sewing implements. 

“So, you think since you’re a big boy now, you can go out messing up the quiet little town, don’t you? How long are we going to do this, Tatsumi? How many times is your mom going to have to come in and say she’s sorry? How do you think she sleeps at night?” Dumbass cop kept rattling off his mouth. He knew just how well she slept at night, and it was terrible. Was no thanks to them, either. At least like this, she could get a few nights of rest instead of tossing and turning to the sounds of engines screeching through the shopping district. Kanji spat on the ground of the interrogation room.

“Easy now, son,” the other officer in the room chimed in, “don’t want any more trouble. You whooped some butt tonight of some punks. There’s just no reason for a boy like you to go out. We got it covered.” Kanji gritted his teeth. The whole good cop, bad cop routine was something he’d seen all too often. Sure didn’t do a lot of good when some punk went to his dad - never found the bastard, no matter how many people they lined up in front of Kanji to identify. It’s not like his dad would go down from a knife wound… it just got an infection. No way papa would go down to any other man, but sickness was another problem. Even a year later, Kanji knew that it was these bastards’ faults. Nothing would’ve happened if the man hadn’t taken a scratch, if that dent in his armor didn’t make his body keel over and…

Kanji, at that point, decided that he hated the table being in front of him and kicked it across the room. “Hell kind of job do you do, huh?! Sit on your asses chompin’ down donuts until somethin’ ends up gettin’ t’be a problem for you! Biker gangs just some punks passin’ through every damn night, but if it’s some punk kid who’s right in the middle of town, oh, NOW we gotta go balls deep into this! Well maybe if you did your goddamn jobs, guys like me wouldn’t have to do it for you!”

The little outburst got him detained for the next twenty-four hours. Danger to the community or something. Wasn’t his fault his little growth spurt happened right when it was time to buckle down and be a man. If no one else was gonna help his family, he’d carry ‘em on his back, and to Hell with what everyone else thought of him in the process. It’s not like he had anyone to spend time with anymore, anyway.

When he got home the next day, Kanji looked into his mother’s face. She smiled gently at him, her disappointment hidden behind a mask of encouragement. “Y-you damn old hag…” Kanji stuttered. He shut the door so no one could hear, embraced his mom, and cried until the hurt went away.

—

Rise Kujikawa, Age 16

“See, Naoto-kun! This is the color your face gets when you think about Kanji-kun like that!” Rise eagerly pointed to a coral dress, making her detective companion match the shade. Rise directed Naoto’s attention to a mirror to point out the shade differences, and then immediately corrected that she was looking more of a tomato red after that.

Naoto’s response could best be described as syllables that once belonged to words, but were quickly cut from the neck down and left to flounder before dying. Rise just waved off Naoto’s embarrassment with a swift wave. The previous Valentine’s Day, Kanji had left her a small, hand-crafted chocolate in the shape of a magnifying glass in her shoe locker. Naoto had, of course, assumed it was from either a recent transfer student (or otherwise a female that refused to believe that princes weren’t exclusively male) and disposed of it. It wasn’t until she saw the same wrapping paper in Tatsumi Textiles and had investigated its origins (Ms. Tatsumi’s “oh, I believe you know what it was for, dear” was the most confusing and, after realization, horrifying response she’d received in her career) that her utter embarrassment necessitated a response. And so, here she was, shopping for a boy for a White Day gift with the only friend she was certain had a suggestion other than ‘wear less clothing’ for a gift.

Rise, for her part, was delighted to just comb through various ideas with the ever-clueless detective, ushering her into various stores. Rise had finally had the idea of them purchasing a fabric and making something for Kanji. Naoto had protested, certain that whatever she made would look like a hideous mockery of Kanji’s craft, but Rise had been able to talk her down and actually consider picking up a needle. It was only fitting that she return his rudimentary understanding of her profession with a rudimentary understanding of his own. It was.. just a friendly offering. Nothing more. A step toward understanding. All words and ideas that Rise had nicely set into Naoto’s head and assured her of, again and again.

“… Ifyou’dexcuseme.” Naoto managed to string together before darting out of the store and toward a restroom facility. Rise just giggled to let her friend gather her thoughts, before noticing that Naoto had left her cell phone on a piece of fabric. Oddly absent-minded of her, but Naoto was already odd enough whenever out of her element, so Rise decided to do some snooping. For all of Naoto’s great mystery, guessing the safety code to her phone (the year that her favorite Featherman series first aired) was decidedly simple. Messing around with texts was easy enough, and she amused herself with just how bland and straightforward Naoto could be. But there was one text - a simple one from Kanji - that caught her off-guard.

“U idiot. Sleep in 2morrow. U got enough 2 worry about 2 waste time makin a bad lunch. This is what I got, I’ll make u one”

Included was a picture of an opened lunchbox, showing what appeared to be a bunch of onigiri carefully made in the shape of a fox, with a red bean paste in the middle and some grilled steak to form the nose and eyes. But on the box’s lid, on the inside, was a well-worn Valentine’s Day sticker. The heart was faded, a name was crossed off, and ‘From R’ was just barely visible at the top of the box.

Rise swiftly began a reply.

“Ur SO caring u big doofus. I cant B-LIEVE”

And then stopped. And took a deep breath. Closed her eyes, and let the rush of emotions pass over her. Something she hadn’t felt since senpai told her she sucked at origami (real romantic, she knows). Something that let her know that someone cared unconditionally for her as she was. She could hold onto Kanji forever with just a few simple moves and…

… She’d made him a promise. To help him, no matter what. And right now, he needed all the help he could get. She deleted her own message, then went back into Naoto’s phone.

“I NO U WANT 2 SAY SOMETHING. PLZ TELL ME. I WONT WAIT 4EVER 4 YOUR MYSTERY 2 COME 2 ME”

Naoto would probably kill her, ask what exactly she meant by it, and claim that she was ruining her friendship with Kanji with unnecessary entanglements. But Naoto was always kind of an idiot like that, anyway. Rise sighed, kissed her bare ring finger, and sent the text.


End file.
